


Verd ori'shya beskar'gam- A warrior is more then their armor

by EverydayMagic17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Immortality, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, C3P0 edits his translations for public consumption, F/F, F/M, Gen, HK-47 shows affection like a cat, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Multi, Other, Time Travel Fix-It, clone medics are scary, don't mess with the ex-sith turned mandalorian, don't mess with unfamiliar technology, missing 4000 years of history sucks, oblivious jedi, revan adopts clones, revan still holds a grudge about the mind-wipe, revan wants to murder kaminoans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverydayMagic17/pseuds/EverydayMagic17
Summary: Revan, Surik and Scourge managed to kill the Emperor, but Revan was badly injured. However, sticking her into a stasis pod they didn't know how to operate may not have been the best idea...The woman who used to be known as Revan, before joining Clan Ordo, wakes up thousands of years in the future, where no one can understand her, due to linguistic drift, and everyone she's ever known is no more than myth and legend to almost the entire galaxy. Then they introduce her to the jedi's slave army of mando'ade clones, and the 'Chosen One' who's at least as much of a walking disaster as she ever was, and the creepy Chancellor. Well,she might as well get to work saving the Galaxy. Again.
Relationships: Canderous Ordo/Female Revan, Canderous Ordo/Female Revan (past), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 33
Kudos: 222





	1. Prologue

The Mandalor’s helmet was blank and expressionless, as was Bastilla Shan’s face, but both the Sith pure-blood, and the Jedi (no longer) Exile felt the glares in the Force. The fact that Revan was alive, if badly injured, was in their favor. The fact that they had no idea how to remove her from the stasis pod that seemed to be a bizarre mixture of ancient sith, and even older Rakata technologies, was less so. The pair that had saved-but-also-trapped Revan had delivered the pod, after a predictably far-too-convoluted-and-narrow escape from the Sith Empire, into the custody of the ex-sith's Mandalorian lover, and jedi bond-mate, as the ones best suited to guarding it while a solution was found.  
The silence after the explanation continued to stretch on, ever more awkward, until the petite woman, after glancing at the beskar-clad behemoth, jerked a chin at the exit. The sith and jedi couldn’t be said to scamper away from the new Grandmaster of the Jedi order, and Mandalor the Preserver, but their pace was only barely more dignified.  
"Well... shit."


	2. Mace's Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revan wakes up to, of course, a battle. She can't really understand a word anyone's saying, but being shot at by droids is pretty clear. Mace just wishes that someone else had to deal with this mess Dooku made by hitting the woerd coffin-thing with lightning by accident.

The woman who’d once been known as the Sith Lord Revan, woke from the stasis pod she’d been in for some unknown amount of time, to the far-too-familiar sound of clashing lightsabers and blaster-fire, and the tired-fear-anger-hope-despair of a sustained battle flavoring the Force all around. Kriffing hells, Meetra, what happened after you tucked me away?  
An experienced General, and even more experienced combatant, she was rolling to cover, as the Force told her. She’d not even had enough time to recover her sight from stasis sickness, or even take a breath and she was, of course, already in the middle of some osik. She could sense a pair of force-users, one Dark, the other a steady Light wound around and within a carefully controlled edge of darkness. At least a dozen fainter presences, disciplined, with a form aranu-runi discipline, and a lot of droids, sense in the faint hum of their electricity, and the sound of servos more than in by presence in the Force. By the sound, armored verde against droids, the lighter Force user striving to protect the people, inside a relatively large room that smelt like an old, but not damp temple…  
The next instant, she nearly crumpled in agony- not physical, she felt the ragged edges of the stolen armor digging in when she moved, but not the wounds -Force, how long has it been that I fully healed in stasis?- but in psychic torture, not from the brutal mind-probes of the sith, but the shattered, ragged edges of every single force-bond she’d made. All of them smashed by the death of the other person, ripping into her mind. It was worse than when the karking sith emperor himself had broken her, before sending her against the Republic!  
Only the weight, and song of the crystals on her sabers, falling into her hands and igniting at the touch of her mind with a hum of utter familiarity, allowed her to ground herself. She threw hasty shields up, to contain the damage, at least enough to allow her to function. Her eyes at least had some utility now; a lot of white armor against beige droids of vaguely humanoid shape. Tan-and-brown robes with a purple saber a few shades redder then her right hand blade, against black clothes with white hair and a red blade.  
A dismayed wail, and the word ‘jedi’ was included from the droids, which began firing at her, I guess that answers which to side with, as well as continuing the barrage aimed at the maybe-mandalorians. One of the verde barked, with military curt firmness, something at the probably-Jedi in what sounded like it was related to Basic at some point in the past. Has it been long enough for that level of linguistic drift? She fell into the familiar motions of jar-kai soresu, covering the verde after getting between them and the droids.  
The Dark one, boomed something resonant at her, even as he used makashi against the jedi’s variant of juyo, flinging a brief handful of lightning at the man, even as her eyes recovered enough that it became evident that she was in the main chamber of what seemed to be a bizarre mix of jedi memorial, and the sort of burial display that the Mandalorian gave only their most beloved leaders, or even the odd most revered enemies, the murals displaying… Revan’s mask, Clan Ordo’s sigil, along with that of the Mandalor, the jedi order, and depictions of her life… fuck, it was long enough that they gave be a kriffing funeral temple, that has been around long enough to be forgotten and age to disrepair…  
“Yeah, I can’t understand a kriffing word you’re saying, dar’jetti di’kut, but it’s probably blah blah, join me, blah blah, Dark Side. Sooran, shab, I don’t think so!” To make her point clear, she used tutaminis to catch the next blast of lightning (sent at the verde, the hut’uun) absorb and morph it into a force-blast that sent him reeling into a wall, before leaping after him in unison with juyo-jedi. She switched into a mixture of juyo and djem so, with a touch of soresu, as the droid destroyers with portable shield generators kept up their rapid fire, thier onslaught drove Dark-user back.   
She caught the next blast of Force-lightning- apparently he’s slow to learn and redirected it to take out a destroyer, and the shields of the two flanking it, not bothering with gestures to help focus her efforts, as manipulating others’ Force-lightning had become almost instinctual in her time dealing with sith. So many sith. The verde quickly scrapped the one closest to them, while continuing to trash the battalion of lesser droids. Well trained, good fire discipline, damn good accuracy.  
A fourth of the big ones came rolling up why make rolling droids, just give it a decent set of legs – even as the third went down to an ion grenade. A flick of the wrist sent her left saber whirling at Dark-makashi user, and a slight twist of the hand let her sent the new arrival bowling backwards through the ranks of its allies, before it could deploy its shield, and neatly caught the returning saber in time to blok a slash at her flank. A chorus of electronic wails and metallic crunches brought a fierce grin to her lips.  
“Oya!” she whooped, no few of the verde echoing the cry so at least trained by mando’ade- but the probably sith did a flashy backwards flip onto a ledge, and out a gap near the ceiling, as a quartet of silver humanoid droids with electrostaves. Hut’uun. Well, apparently, they were designed to hunt jedi, these new style droids, as a pair could drive the agressive-even-for-juyo master back. Fun. Feeling the sheer disbelief rising from the verde and the jedi, she clipped her sabers to her waist, and ripped a staff from the grip of on of the pair targeting her, shoving it through the torso and up into the head, in one move taking out both possible locations for the central processor, then going hand to hand with the second.  
“Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur!” she hollered; there was a reason that she’d been adopted as a worthy warrior into several Mandalorian clans, even before she’d made the rank of general, much less the flood of adoptions that’d occurred after she’d beaten Mandalor the Ultimate in personal combat. Even more had flooded into her inbox, telling her after-the-fact, following her defeat of Malak, and it wasn’t because she was the epitome of caution and common sense. In fact the Clans had, repeatedly, tried to make her the new Mandalor, before she’d pawned it off on Kandosa She’d told him where the Mask of the Mandalor was as a courtship gift, less than a month before the quiet riduurok that they’d not seen the need to tell anyone beyond the Ebon Hawke’s crew about.  
Far too soon, she’d hit the point in the ‘neck’ that disrupted the wiring to control the body, and snapped the head off entirely, which left her without a good stress release outlet, even as she channeled the electric backlash into a Force-leap that left her crashing down in a Force-wave in the center of the last few standard model droids. Shoddy manufacturing, I wasn’t even trying to do more than toss them about a bit.   
Battle done, she kept a cautious eye on the others, while inspecting the walls to see what messages had been left for her. If she knew her husband and Mission, not to mention the old crank, Jolee, there would be hints as to where her damn armor was. Jolee would undoubtedly get a hoot out of her current situation, and there was no way she was going to be helpful to the jetti until she knew what the kriffing hells was going on in the galaxy that the Force was this unsettled. Juyo Jedi incoming, doesn’t seem like he has a sense of humor. This’ll be fun. Was it mildly sadistic of her? Yes. Did she hold a grudge about the whole mind-wipe and sent not even half-trained again, on a mission she was expected to die undertaking? Also yes. Was it fair to take it out on someone who had no idea about what was probably ancient history to anyone but her? No, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. I need something to distract me lest I break down sobbing on the man’s shoulder ans scar his precious jedi serenity for life.

Mace stared at the walking shatterpoint of a woman who’d been dumped out of what everyone had thought was a coffin, until a deflected both of Dooku’s lightning had hit it, making the B1’s scream about ‘zombie jedi’ before shooting at her. Thankfully, given the sheer capability at mayhem she’d displayed, the attack had been enough to prompt her to fall back and begin to cover the men adeptly, despite the Force around her reeling with both an impressive case of stasis-sickness and, for a moment, enough sheer psychic trauma to fell the entire High Council.   
Something about Dooku had seemed to draw her ire when the Count addressed her, asking her to join him, only to be rebuffed it what sounded like a mixture of truly ancient Basic, and what might be equally old Mando’a (insults hadn’t drifted much, it seemed) and she’d launched herself at the darksider with what was clearly the most aggressive juyo Mace had seen, even from ancient holocrons. Several of the men had whooped, and a level of glee, mixed with oh-thank-goodness-she’s-on-our-side-for-now, had filled the Force around them, at the display.  
Her casual ability to handle amounts of Force lightning that Mace, and even Yoda himself had to concentrate to deal with had started his mind on the idea that the Force-user had been put in stasis during one of the sith wars. Then the madwoman had hollered a traditional mandalorian battle cry, and launched herself empty-handed at a pair of magna-guards, seeming to have fun trashing them. Even Skywalker, or Kenobi’s Commander, Cody who was known for tackling General Grievous, on multiple occasions, would’ve thought twice about that, despite their legendary fearlessness in battle. Mandalorians lunatics to a man.   
Now, with Dooku fled, and the last of the droids shattered by her aerial attack, she was apparently inspecting the funerary temple she’d been placed in, keeping one eye on Mace and his men, clearly reading more in the stylized mandalorian art than the jedi master could decipher. He waved Ponds over to join him, as he approached the warrior.  
“Thank you for your aid. Might we know you name?” Mace asked, hoping against all previous signs, that she’d understand. She tilted her head, raising a blue-black brow over eyes as green as Skywalker’s were blue, a feeling of amusement-confusion deliberately broadcast to him in the Fore as she shook her head ruefully. Mace sighed.

“Just when Kenobi’d be useful, he’s half the Galaxy away. I don’t suppose you’re fluent in ancient Mando’a, Ponds?”  
“No sir, that’d be Gree, or Lt Lexicon, sir. I can try modern Mando’a, even if I’m not very fluent?” the Commander offered, both of them noting how the woman’s eyes sharpened at the name of the language.  
“We can try,”Mace sighed, gesturing the protocol-concious man to stand next to him, rather than the half step behind the jedi was trying to get him out of the habit of maintaining.  
“Su’cuy, ah- tion gar... gar gai?” Ponds faltered. The response was in the interrogative, amusement and a bit of wicked glee, mixed with a trace of confusion coming across in the Force.   
“I think she’s asking if I want to know her name or her rank, General.” Mace pinched the bridge of his nose, as the part of his headache that wasn’t shatter-point induced blossomed further. It was just like a Mandalorian to be as difficult for a jedi as possible…  
“Yes, both, please.” He sighed, and Ponds translated. Another wave of amusement, and more than just a name and rank, unless ancient mandalorians were far wordier than their concise descendants was given in a slow, carefully over-pronounced way. Mace got the sense she was being deliberately unhelpful, just to mess with him.  
“Uh… I’m missing like half of what she said, but… she gave her ‘little name’ as Ka’ra, which is basically ‘stars’, and her title as well, wife of Mandalore the Preserver, and Supreme Commander of the rebuilt Mandalorian military. Sir...” Ponds sounded stressed. “If I recall Rex’ika’s history rambles correctly, Mandalore the Preserver was 4000 years ago.” The blue streak that was swearing Mace was astounding his men with, and highly entertaining Ka’ra with, was interrupted by the jedi’s comm going off.  
“Yes?!” He snapped at Kenobi, whose image, along with that of his newly Knighted (as of two days ago) ex-padawan, and their trouble-magnet Senator friend popped up. Skywalker’s eyes widened, and he tried to ‘subtly’ edge behind his much shorter former master. It was about as successful as his continued attempts to pretend he wasn’t involved with the Senator. were  
“You seem cheerful, my friend.” the bearded jedi teased, “Any idea was to what the giant disturbance in the Force a few minutes ago was, and why I had the sudden urge to locate Senator Amidala’s protocol droid in a hurry?”  
“Oh, Force bless you Kenobi!” Mace breathed, for once the golden menace might actually be useful… “Dooku managed to inadvertantly open an ancient stasis pod in a funereary temple, that turned out to contain a biggeer walking shatterpoint than Knight Skywalker,” it was vaguely entertaining to see the surprised pride as the young man was reminded of his new rank, and his attempts to not preen, something Mace was well aware every jedi went through at that stage of their life. Qui-gon has teased Mace about his own inflated ego, after all. He continued his report while careful editing out his more colorful internal commentary on the topic, lest he kill Skywalker with shock at the realization that not all Councilors were stuffed tunics all the time,that they were actually people under the rank and titles.  
“After she helped us, all we’ve been able to discern past the language drift barrier is that she’s massively Force-sensitive, speaks at least the ancient versions of Mando’a and Basic, was married to Mandalore the Preserver, and also apparently held he highest rank of the manalorian military at the time, which was approximately four thousand years ago. Oh, and she gives her ‘little name’ as Ka’ra.” His temples were pounding in time with his pulse, and it felt like a durasteel headband was tightening to crush his skull, which wasn’t unusual, unfortunately, and getting less so as the war went on.  
“You’re rambling, Mace. Have your medic give you something for the migraine. C3-PO do you think you can translate?” The extremely shiny droid waddled into the range of the pickup.  
“Some Mandalorian Clans will not give out their full real name to strangers, giving a use name to those they think might earn their respect enough to be trusted with their actual name at a later date.” Mace fought the urge to roll his eyes at the garrulous rambling, it was unbefitting to show his exasperation too openly, and the protocol droid was merely enjoying a chance to fufuill its primary function, There is no emotion, there is peace. He waved Ka’ra into range of his wrist pickup, which put her close enough that the jagged edges of the damage to her armor caught on his robes, drawing his attention back to the myster she presented.  
What had she gone through to do that much to solid old-republic durasteel? Whatever it was, likely it was the reason she;d been in stasis… some of that looked horribly like lightsaber damage, and the melted branching bits arcing across the surface indicated that she’d been hit with even nastier lightning than Dooku could put out…   
Ka’ra seemed entertained by the droid, amusement in her posture, but she was no longer deliberately sending her emotions into the Force for Mace to sense. Rapidfire Mando’a shot back and forth for a few moments.  
“General Ka’ra is now aware of the date. She says her allies put her into stasis to save her from the after-effects of several years of capture and torture by the Sith Empire as well as injuries from assassinating the Sith Emperor She presumes they were unable to figure out the odd tech of the pod, and so her husband and Clan buried her as an honored enemy turned hero of the Mandalorians. She would like to look for where they put her actual armor, and then requests sanctuary at the closest Jedi Temple in order to seek healing for a half dozen shattered Force Bonds. She added that she knows a technique to learn a language from another using the Force, but she needs healing in order to perform it without damaging the other participant. Oh, she also requests you introduce yourself, and the officers of the ‘maybe mandalorian’ soldiers, as she put it.” The droid eventually came to a stop. Thank the Force, and also no thanks to it for landing me with this mess. Mace wondered how much the droid had expanded the relatively terse replies to make them ‘more suitable’ for the listeners.  
“I am Master Mace Windu, Master of the Jedi Order, and very recently, High General of the Grand Army of the Republic, in command of 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps.” He gave her the traditional bow, one she reflexively returned, as only a jedi, or former jedi could, with the very subtle, archaic formality that indicated a Master, or possibly Battlemaster of the Order greeting a Councilor. “Please ask her if she was once a jedi, if you would.” The droid obliged, seemingly delighted to actually be performing his primary function in a peaceful circumstance, for once. Ka’ra responded, arching a brow at Mace, then tilting her head to one side, and adding what sounded like a wry comment.  
“General Ka’ra says she was an honorary battlemaster, earned through mastering all seven lightsaber forms, and made Master upon the knighting of her padawan at the end of the Jedi Civil War, before leaving the Jedi Order to marry, and joined Clan Ordo in reconstruction and reform efforts. She also says she definitely needs a history lesson if Council members are generals leading a conflict against sith, rather than y their heads in the sand and claiming ‘Peacekeepers don’t belong in War’ and ‘the Code forbids’. Well, it was rather more rude than that, but I felt it unwise to provide the exact translation lest it cause offense-”  
“Thank you, C3-PO,” the Senator intervened, “perhaps you could translate the Commander’s introduction for him?”  
“CC-411, known as Commander Ponds of the 91st, known as Lightning Battalion, of the GAR, General, sir.” The Force exploded with rage, and the air seemed to get heavy and dense with the power radiating off of Ka’ra, as somehow she slipped to stand between Ponds and Mace, barely leashed protective fury aimed at the jedi.  
-Numbers before names? Since when do Jedi condone slavery, much less control a slave army? It is against everything the Jedi believe in, or so I thought.- The words, dripping in fury contempt, and old, personal wounds battered past Mace’s shielding, almost like the time Skywalker had been forced to keep Mace aware against a force-blinding poison in order to escape. Past the pain, he was glad she’d done it mind-to-mind, as he didn’t want to inflict this on his men, given how they saw themselves as serving willingly, doing their duty…   
In response, Mace shoved the memories of the discovery of the clones’ origins, the start of the war and how the senate and chancellor strong-armed the jedi, and the Senate’s refusal to grant the men basic sentient rights, at her in the clumsiest memory-share since he was an initiate, trying to show shatterpoints to Master Yoda, in an effort to find some way to control and manage the ability. He suspected his own outrage and horror at the situation (which would get him an earful from Yoda,) came across as well. Well, given she;d apparently left the Order to marry into a notoriously passionate people, she’d likely not judge him negatively for the slip.  
Thankfully the rage found a new target, and she reeled herself in, the air becoming breathable again. The men were somewhat alarmed, and he noted that her Force presence was wrapped protectively, and a touch possessively, around each and every one of them, as a blistering tirade of at least eight languages worth of invective erupted from the tiny woman. The droid on the comm made noises of distress and comments about anatomical impossibilities.  
“General Windu, sir? Are you alright? She looked ready to incinerate you, then we all felt like when you check in on us, or cover us in battle, sir? Is that… her?” Ponds had cautiously ducked around Ka’ra to hover protectively at Mace’s side.  
“Let’s just say that one, she’s at least as against the deplorable way the Kaminoans and Senate treat you as myself, Master Koon, Master Kenobi, or Knight Skywalker; two, she’s willing to throw down with anyone, anywhere, anytime at the merest hint of an abuse of power; and three has Skywalker levels of power, despite having me me less than a half hour ago, and having no Force-bond with me.” Mace closed his eyes as his head throbbed, every blood-vessel in his brain seeming to be trying to burst with every heartbeat.  
“Binder! Get the General a pain patch!” The medic charged over at Ponds’ call, looking more than ready to pull out the special heavy-duty sedative the medic corps had already come up with to knock out recalcitrant jedi patients who refused basic self care- ie Kenobi, Skywalker and Koon, usually. Still, the patch slapped on the back of his neck, was a welcome, relief, even if Binder- named because he was not adverse to using binders to keep particularly troublesome patients in medbay, was going to be hovering pointedly until Mace took time to rest.  
“Ni ceta,” Ka’ra had removed a gauntlet, and waited for permission to touch two callused fingertips to the pulse point in Mace’s wrist. Soothing warmth flowed from the skin contact, healing energy washing some of the pain and tension from his frame, and restoring a bit of his own Force-stores. That much Mando’s he knew, basic courtesies, so he could set his me at ease with the acknowledgment of their growing culture.  
“Vor’e,” he managed. she gave a sweet smile, almost shy, like she wasn’t used to the expression.  
“N’entye, jetti,” she patted his forearm carefully, and withdrew, only to wince as she spotted the intent look from Binder. Mace sighed, and transferred the call to the larger hand-pickup Ponds had pointedly removed from a pouch on his belt, so that C3PO could translate the medic’s interrogation. From the resigned expression on Ka’ra’s face, she was familiar with the breed of medic required to handle jedi, and their equally stubborn men, and knew submitting was the only option.


	3. Memories of Mayhem

Ka’ra was amused at the fussing of the medic, although she suspected that a great deal of the actual ‘fussiness’ was due to the translator. In her experience, combat medics tended to be painfully blunt, Especially those that had to deal with the fact that due to using the Force to sustain themselves in combat, jedi tended to ignore injuries and collapse unpredictably when their energy abruptly ran out.   
In order to appease Binder, she began to remove the damaged sith-empire armor, so she could prove she was uninjured beneath. Once it was removed, she realized just how much damage had been done to the durasteel, riddled with marks from glancing saber blows, and charred and melted where Force lightning had made contact despite her best efforts. No wonder Meetra and their nominal ally had shoved her into the stasis pod with those particular expressions, and no wonder the Jedi and his men, who seemed like they were clones (cloning tech had apparently advanced enough that full-body sentients weren’t unstable and insane), most likely, were eyeing her with such concern when they thought she wasn’t looking.   
Where her injuries were visible though rents in the under-armor, they’d faded to silvery scars, or disappeared entirely, something the translator droid confirmed the medic’s scanner had told him. One of the jedi on the other end of the connection, the bearded one, seemed to be following their Mando’a, it was at least somewhat likely he was fluent in the modern version of the language, while the younger one seemed to be pretending he wasn’t ridiculously obviously in love with the well-dressed human woman. It was painfully apparent, but everyone seemed to be allowing the couple the illusion they were discreet; Ka’ra wondered what the current Jedi dogma on relationships, the definition of attachment, and darksider redemption was.  
She wondered if the medic had realised she wasn’t human yet. Ah, there was the expression of mild bewilderment, when the scanner had picked up the vestigial second set of vocal cords and hyoid bone, just enough to allow her to mimic some of the more guttural sounds in shyriiwook, and used mostly for emotional intonations in her own native tongue. Carth expression the first time he’d heard her purr to soothe Mission had been a delight.  
“I run a couple degrees hotter than baseline human, and my caloric needs are higher,as my species evolved in a high grav, somewhat lower oxygen environment. My toxin tolerance is roughly twice that of baseline humans, as well, even without the force, and I need fewer complex carbs and more protein proportionally in my diet. It is unlikely you’ll find anything in the Jedi archives, my species was all but unknown and functionally extinct in my original time.” Ka’ra summarized, setting off a flurry of what was likely speculation. Still, she’d given the medic enough he couldn’t really justify harassing her further than shoving a protein bar into her hands, pointedly staring until it was consumed. Republic military rations had actually improved in the last few millennia. Only marginally, but it was still a miracle.  
Medic appeased, Al’verde Ponds and another followed, carrying the communication device as she inspected the walls for just where her insane family had decided to stash her beskar’gam. When she got to the depiction of the terentatek on Kashyyyk, she began cackling, helplessly. That had to be Mission and Jolee’s idea; written in Mando’a runes that were hidden in the stylized foliage, was the direct binary translation of shyriiwook, saying ‘just use the Force to get to your armor, idiot’. With a flick of will and a hand gesture, to conceal the extent of her abilities from the watchers, she triggered the mechanism.   
With a faint protest of ancient machinery, and a grating of stone against stone for the first inch or two, the wroshyr tree split along the bark grain, the sections sinking back a few inches, then sliding behind the rest of the wall, crystal sconces lighting up to illuminate the interior. Ka’ra snorted at the sight that met her, eyes fixed on the armor stand posed like it had just walked out of the mouth of the giant krayt skull. She crumpled to her knees, holding her sides, as if that could keep her from shattering apart at the seams, helpless to keep the tears from running down her face as memories played out in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Irritated commentary: I don’t see why we had to negotiate with the robed meatbags, Master. I’d much rather engage in wholesale slaughter. It would be simpler, and faster.” The HK unit complained, making Skye snort. Whoever had programmed it had a twisted, yet hilarious sense of humor. She could see why it might unnerve many people, but it was delightfully into its actual primary function.  
“You’ve been saying that for the past hour, droid. If you don’t shut up, this ‘meatbag’ will turn you into scrap and sell you to half a dozen different jawa clans!” Kandosa growled. Without turning, the scout-turned-jedi knew he was waving the rotary cannon that weighed as much as she did, at the bronzed assassin unit.   
“Why did you insist on bringing the beskar’ad with us? We don't need the translator anymore,” the burly mandalorian grumbled. Skye smirked, and turned to walk backwards over the dunes, it’d rest her eyes from the glare of the Tatooine suns anyhow. Czerka’s full of lunatics to even try mining here, even if their scans had paid out.  
“Carth and Bastila look like boiled Chandrillan lobsters, and Juhani is comforting Mish’ika about her hutt’un piece of osik dar’vod.” Skye knew talking in someone’s native tongue was a good way to make them like and trust you further, even if the effect was subconscious, and she’d take any advantage she could get to hold the motley crew of the Ebon Hawke together. He’s going to hit on me again, I just know it.  
“You know how attractive I find it when you use my language, ka’ra’verd,” Kandosa rumbled. He’d been taken aback that a Republic scout, much less one who’d served on Dux’un during the Mandalorian War would know his birth-tongue and culture, much less that she respected it, and cut through Carth’s bigoted sniping. Repeatedly. Carth needs to fix that cranial-rectal impacture quickly, or I’m going to lay him out for some time without judgmental sniping at half my crew...  
Then she’d shot the rakghoul off Kandosa’s back, and he’d offered an adoption into his clan, which she’d countered with the Clan tattoo she’d earned via entering a dueling circle to win back a unit of captured soldiers during the war. At that point, he’d beamed, promptly started flirting, and with her force-abilities trained, she could feel the genuine intent behind it, deeper than just lust, despite how short their acquaintance was. She found it flattering, but somewhat bemusing. I know Mando’ade love warriors, but really? Why?  
“Keep it in your pants, ori’verd, I can't imagine getting sand and sunburn there would be comfortable,” She teased, not adverse to the flirtation, and not at all sold on the ridiculous rules about ‘attachment’ the Jedi fenced themselves in with. By their definition, even deep friendships should be avoided, which, in a soldier’s experience, would make unit cohesion all but impossible, and reduce efficiency hugely. Not to mention be lonely as all getout.   
Being born into a clannish, force-sensitive species that had fled the deep-core, only to be wiped out by Exar-Kun, it went against every instinct she had to not build any sort of family for herself. As soon as this mission to kick Malak’s sith-y ass was over, she intended to quit the Jedi order, and the military, possibly the whole Republic, given the crumbling state it was in. Kandosa’s laugh was unabashed and enthusiastic, welcome after the way her quips got a hastily-concealed twitch of lips, at best, at the Jedi enclave.  
“True, but that leaves the other droid and the wookie, either of which would whine less,”  
“Indignant statement: I do not whine! Clarification: I complain.”  
“Be quieter with your complaining, then.”  
“Tee-three is repairing damage those fighters did to the sublights, and wookies evolved in a temperate rainforest, one on the cooler end of the spectrum. Heat exhaustion and dehydration are a real threat. Not to mention Z’s barely of age, if even that old, for his people, and worried to distraction about his kart’vod’ika. Also, would you trust HK out of your sight, especially around adiike?”  
“Statement of false offense: Master, I am hurt you wouldn’t trust me around impressionable young sent-” Skye cut off the droid with a raised fist, whirling about as her ears twitched and turned to focus better on the noises.   
Alarmed bantha thundering away from a threat, explosions, a furious screech of a very large animal, and a cut-off gurgling scream of a male sentient. All right where the crude map from the sand people had been directing them to find the Star-map. A brush of her force-senses, and she clamped her shields tight against the killing-cold burn of a dark-side artifact, and the fury-pain-huger of a predator.   
She sighed, and shook her head, of course it wouldn’t be a simple retrieval, Taking in Kandosa’s anticipatory look she nodded, a grin taking over her face to match. Given the reports of a bull krayt acting unusually aggressive, even for the species, outside of mating season… It was going to be a challenging fight,  
“Delighted statement: this will be fun! Begging query: Master, may I try the new grenades and mines?” HK wasn’t equipped for facial expressions, but she could all but feel the anooba-pup eyes he was giving her. With a chuckle, she gave permission.  
Ten minutes later, she was frustrated. The dead hunter’s explosives had crippled one rear leg, and injured the front one on that side, but had done little further useful damage, yet crumbled half the cave entrance. Sloppy placement by an amateur with demolitions. Blasters and sabers alike were doing little more damage than insect bites, as the naturally resistant hide had been reinforced by years, possible centuries given the sheer size of the creature, of absorbing dark side energies.   
“Mine successfully laid!”HK crowed, and then let off a shot. An explosion had the creature howling in agony and ah-hah, the inside of the mouth being hit by Kandosa’ fire got another reaction from the krayt. Inside isn’t nearly as resistant, so if I can just...  
“What the kriff did you do to it, droid?” The Mandalorian threw himself behind the battered speeder, to avoid the tail-swipe as he hollered the question. Given the heat of the sand, and his refusal to wear sleeves, that couldn't have felt good.  
“I attached a mine below the eye, and set it off with a perfect shot,” HK was definitely smug.  
“Great, can you repeat it on the other side, because dodging is starting to get annoying,” Skye half-ordered, continuing to try and land hits on the uncrippled back leg, to cut through and sever a tendon. If the blasted thing couldn’t move this would be a lot easier.  
“Delighted affirmative: Of course, Master!”   
“Your new droid is a bit disturbing in its battle-lust, mesh’la, and that’s coming from one of the Mando’ade,”   
“Be’sole, Kandosa!” She worked her way around to the front, distracting the krayt from the dull bronze chasis of the assassin droid, while the mandalorian had to pause in order to reload again.  
“What, can’t fight and talk at the same time, alor?”  
“I can and will assign you shifts with Bastila, verd, if we don’t take this thing down in the next five minutes because you’re too focused on gabbing like an or’dinii.” Skye reacted to the explosion and roar of the massive beast, employing her hastily devised plan before Kandosa could react, or HK could finish crowing about blinding the beast.  
She launched herself up, and in, past the teeth to land near the back of the mouth and reignited her sabers, one going straight up, hopefully into the brain-pan, the other aimed back, at an angle, and cutting through the spinal cord at the brain-stem, instantly cutting all signals to the muscles of the great creature, even if it wasn't quite an instant kill.   
Skye used force-enhanced speed and strength to launch herself backwards, out of the rotting-meat reeking, damp cavern, before the krayt hit the ground and the impact closed the mouth, rolling to her feet. Her sabers were ready, as she turned to face the three speeders that’d just swept up over the dunes in time to see HK finish blinding the dragon.  
“Fuck this shit, you’re not paying enough to face a lunatic with lightsabers, Calo Nord. I’m out, man,” the chagrian sputtered, and his speeder, and the one driven by the rodian turned.   
“HK, target the one with the wrap and goggles,” Skye said, not wanting to to deal with the bounty hunter that’d somehow managed to survive half the hangar ceiling landing on him, and gotten off of Taris. Especially since she was tired, sunburnt, and Kandosa had managed to somehow be under the Krayt’s tail when it landed, and was currently swearing up several storms as he fought free of the fleshy weight. Nord hadn’t even gotten out of his speeder when the single shot buzzed through the heat waves.  
“Optimal targeting accuracy achieved, Master,” HK titled his head “Eager question: shall I eliminate the fleeing meatbags for you?”  
“Nice shot, and no, they’re not worth the ammo.” If a homicidal droid without expressive faceplates could pout, the HK unit was doing so.  
“Marry me, please,” Kandosa, clearly concussed as she helped him to his feet, and speaking purely in Mando’a, asked, “Beautifully insane warrior of my dreams, please marry me? Your soul burns with all the fury of every past Mandalore combined, brighter than every star,”   
“Ask me again later, when you aren’t concussed, Kandosa the poet. You haven’t even given me a courting gift yet, and I do have standards,” Skye snickered, as he started humming a traditional, and rather bloody, Mandalorian love-ballad about a pair of warrior soul-mates from uneasily allied Clans. Now to deal with getting past the rubble to the star-map… or not, given the worrying stagger from the big guy. I better treat that before he hurts himself worse.  
“Courting gift… What courting gift could be worthy of a warrior of your glory?” Kandosa muttered, as she reached out with the Force, urging the warmth through herself and into her companion, easing the bruising on his brain, preventing further damage as she healed it, easing the pain, before carefully withdrawing, hiding the rush of how intimate Force-Healing was, even if being able to create and mend rather than destroy was her favorite part of what the Jedi had taught her.  
“Suggestion: Master, I am of little use with Force things. Should I retrieve the krayt-pearls for you? I believe they are considered quite valuable by meatbags. Insincerely: This is in no way connected to my desire to practice dismemberment.” HK was waved off, while Kandosa continued to hum, a lot more in tune now that the concussion was fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Mandoa  
> Al'verde: Commander  
> Beskar'ad: droid (lit. 'iron-child')  
> hutt'un: cowardly  
> osik: dung, impolite (ie 'shit')  
> dar'vod: not-sibling, no longer sibling  
> ka'ra'verd: lit. 'star-warrior', self-constructed term for 'jedi'  
> ori'verd: 'big-warrior', nickname, along the lines of 'big-guy'  
> kart'vod'ika: constructed lit. 'heart-little-sibling'  
> adiike: children  
> mesh'la: beautiful  
> be'sole: priorities  
> alor: leader  
> verd: warrior


End file.
